[He goes still when Barnabas raises his hand, eyes darting between the two men before him as lord Harbard returns to his master's side. Joshua takes the slight moment of reprieve to wipe the sweat from his brow, fix some of his clothing that had gotten disheveled during the bout, to lower his sword and stand up a little straighter.

He doesn't dare think that he has met Barnabas' approval until the other man speaks and Joshua's eyes go wide in a delighted surprise.]

Your highness.

[He can't keep the excitement from his voice. Not that he's eager to spar, but that he's met with the king's approval, in a matter that Odin holds so closely to his heart. It fills him with a rush of adrenaline to know that Barnabas deigns to wield a blade before him, and he can't help himself but to let his mouth crack into a grin, despite how much he'd like to be serious and a little more - casual, maybe? - about this.

Joshua steadies his grip on his own sword in turn, angling his stance back to a proper starting position, but he can't help the way his heart positively pounds in his chest to see Barnabas standing on the other side of the ring.]

I have wished to see you like this for quite some time. You do me an immeasurable honor by being my opponent today.

[He manages a quick bow before readying himself again. He knows he is outmatched, a hundred times over. He knows that Barnabas could have him on his knees with barely a twitch of his arm. Joshua does not hope to win, only to showcase his talents and be something worthy in his king's eyes - and so he takes the first offense, closing the distance between them to strike.]

[The mantle of Odin is dark and imposing, and Joshua can only watch as Barnabas pulls it around his shoulders with awe. He tries not to forget himself in this combat, tries not to lower his guard, but as the darkness overtakes his king and he moves faster than the eye can see, he can't help himself but to think: beautiful.

To be his target like this. To feel trapped before him like a mouse before a falcon. He relishes in it, adores it in a way that maybe he shouldn't - and when Barnabas flashes his teeth, when he talks about putting Joshua where he belongs... well, it sends a thrum of arousal through him that knocks his thoughts askew altogether.

Barnabas is close suddenly again, and his blade - Joshua cries out as he lifts his hand, the Phoenix instinctively casting a barrier to protect him which barely weaves itself through the air in time for Barnabas's strike to collide with it. The shockwave of the force behind the blow sends him sprawling regardless, and the barrier shatters into nothing, too weak to sustain the entire hit.

There's truly no chance, but he gets back to his feet anyway, as quickly as he can.

He can't even speak, nor would he know what to say to start with. Fiery wings flash out of Joshua's shoulders for a moment, enough to pull him back, to put more distance between them so he can lash out with more spurts of flame, but he knows that they won't connect. His sword is still somehow in his hand but it feels useless - one strike from Odin's mighty blade would likely shatter it.

Anyway, he's not truly fast enough to deflect, much less go on the offensive. Odin can attack at any angle, can move quickly enough to where Joshua can only rely on the Phoenix's instinctive protection, and even that's not enough to keep him at bay. It leaves him with little other choice but to drop his weapon and use both of his arms instead to summon the firebird's power, opening his own conduit to it and gritting his teeth as the air around him goes blistering hot.]

Ha - ah!

[It explodes from him then in a pillar of aetherial flame, the fullest extent to which he can channel his abilities without fully priming. He doesn't aim it - Barnabas would just step into the shadows and dodge it anyway - and so flames simply burn like wildfire across the training ground, opening small tornados and further missiles of raging flame in every direction, singing the dirt itself and charring anything in its wake.

It's not going to be enough. Joshua hasn't done a lot of fighting in this state, doesn't have the elegant control over it that someone else might - but by searing the battlefield, he can at least establish some kind of defensive position, where he can move freely through the tendrils of fire that arc their way across the grounds. The cost is... too much to bear for long, but if it grants him a few seconds of reprieve to pick up his sword and strike out, then it's longer than he would have lasted under Odin's onslaught in the first place.]

[It's enough. To hear Barnabas say his name, to watch as he's struck by the flame. It's enough to see him present, to see that Joshua has not left him bored or wanting. That he, in some way, has measured up in Barnabas' eyes and left him - proud? Is this pride?

His blade is blocked and he can feel Odin's power through it, overwhelming him easily. Joshua intends to attack again, draw back his sword and move like it's on instinct, use the footwork that he's been training so rigorously to master, but his knees buckle under the weight of Odin's blade instead.

He doesn't mean for it to happen. It surprises even him, but as the fiery hellscape around them burns, his stamina burns with it, cut down to ash in only a few glorious moments. Joshua grits his teeth and lifts his other hand to the hilt of his blade, pressing up against Barnabas' might with all of his fading strength, flames ebbing from the battlefield as more and more of his power diverts into just holding him there.

One of his knees finally gives and hits the dirt.]

S-sire -

[It's clear that this will be over in a moment, but Joshua refuses to be smothered without any sort of protest. His jaw clenches as the rest of the fire on the battlefield is reduced to embers and he struggles against the oppressive strength with all of the fight left in him. Flames lick up his blade, coating the steel in fire to withstand the heavy weight of Odin's steel and he pushes with his feet to try and stand again, trying fruitlessly to delay the inevitable - if only to savor that look in Barnabas' eyes for another handful of heartbeats.]

[When Joshua had proposed sparring with his king, he'd meant it in a... more casual sense. He'd meant for Barnabas to observe the progress he was making with his swordplay, so that he might stoke a spark of pride, or somehow use it as proof that he's strong enough to leave the castle and join him on his excursions. He'd meant to show off his footwork, the strength he's gained, to run a few rounds of training swords clashing against one another and laugh about his futile attempts later.

What happened is... not that, and it's mostly his own fault. Desire to prove himself had burned like a life or death desperation and the phoenix had answered. He could have yielded when Barnabas drove him back into the wall, or at the first true strike of his blade, when it was clear that the gulf between them spanned an eternity. He could have bent the knee then, but - but then he wouldn't have seen the intensity behind Barnabas' eyes. He wouldn't have pulled his king's focus to him. He might still have been deemed weak.

But this was only ever going to end one way, regardless of how much power he drew from his eikon.

Joshua's sword clatters to the ground and his other knee hits the dirt, kneeling as he heaves in breath after breath. The phoenix ebbs from him, having burned itself out into a flurry of brilliant flame - the power fades and the partial prime drops away from him, leaving him just a man at the feet of his king.

He can't take his eyes off of Barnabas. Joshua doesn't move as the blade moves to his throat, the steel of it so sharp that it could cut anything. The faintest twitch of Odin's wrist will neatly sever his head from his shoulders and the danger in it, the power in it, is so intoxicating that he feels another surge of heat low in his gut.

Sweat sticks his bangs to his forehead as he breathes, taking in greedy mouthfuls of air, his pulse thundering so loudly that he's sure Barnabas can hear it. There's a stillness to the battlefield now that the fire has burnt out, and he finally casts his head down in reverence, blearily looking at Barnabas' boots.]

I yield, your highness.

[He'd kiss them right here if he could, prostrate himself before his king after this show of absolute power. He has never felt so... conquered, and while any other man may be cowering, all Joshua can think of is how badly he's wanted to be under Barnabas' cold scrutiny like this, and how brutally satisfying it is to be truly beaten by him.]

[The seconds where he is kneeling before his king stretch on like hours, excruciating and tender. Joshua will think of this moment later, in the privacy of his own time after Barnabas has left him to take the field again - here on his knees before his king, and all the possibilities that spiral out from here.

He's startled almost when he hears Barnabas kneeling down in front of him, though he doesn't dare to lift his gaze quite yet. It's only when he feels the touch against his jaw that he looks up, bright eyes seeking out the other man's incendiary gaze and feeling as if his heart might burst to see him like this. It's... almost affectionate, like Barnabas is a man once more within his grasp instead of an icy warlord and Joshua's fingers ache to reach for him in turn.

He doesn't kiss him. He wouldn't presume to move so quickly against him, but he longs to feel Barnabas' mouth on his, to taste the victory from his lips. His own mouth feels dry and he wets his lower lip with his tongue, present and here and needing him.]

I... I want -

[It's inappropriate, here instead of in Barnabas' bedchambers, and so Joshua doesn't finish the sentence, but it's obvious in the way his gaze shifts to his king's mouth, how his body opens before his touch, leans in with a senseless hunger.

He swallows hard, throat bobbing, and cuts his gaze away. An embarrassed flush creeps over him that is in no way related to the exertion - how forward he's being, how much he's asking for after already being beaten down.]

- forgive me. I can only hope that I've measured up to your expectations today.

[Like this, with a stillness between them, Joshua feels every breath. He's exhausted and his body feels as if it will give out, but when Barnabas slides his fingers along his mouth, touches the plumpness of his lower lip with the pad of his thumb... it feels like they're sharing their heartbeats, like nothing else in this world matters except for them. Joshua is caught up in him, subsumed by Odin's nature and he gives himself freely.]

I... felt... [He speaks slowly, working it out for himself as he reflects on the wild actions that brought them to this point.] ...free.

[The Phoenix has always lingered under the surface of his skin, and while that has mostly been a comfort to him, with flame coming as easily as breathing - there has been a small part of it that he hasn't realized he'd held back. True, Joshua has only fully primed once in his life, in the events leading to his almost-death and subsequent journey to Waloed, and he'd never thought himself to be missing anything from his lack of transformation. But this... even to semi-prime, to do so and release so much power, power that he didn't know he was capable of - even though it had been fully eclipsed by Odin's might, there was still a rush to it, something that felt like adrenaline but sweeter, more intoxicating.

He breathes out slowly, calming his thoughts.]

Like I was... the purest form of myself. I just felt - and moved on instinct.

[Despite his earlier correction, he can't stop himself from leaning in closer at the touch, desire stoking an altogether different fire in him. Joshua's tongue is soft and pink and it slips out just far enough to lick at Barnabas' thumb, tasting the sweat and skin.

It's soft, instinctive, like an animal licking at its master in affection.]

[It would be madness to feel deprived after he's been given so much. It would surely be considered immature if someone could sense how his heart falls when Barnabas finally pulls away. Joshua still feels a chill, as if the warmth of Barnabas' regard has fallen away from him in the moment he draws himself back.

He doesn't react. He stays quiet, humble on his knees, his head bowed as Barnabas moves to stand. Just because the prior moments could not last forever doesn't make them any less real. Barnabas had watched him with pride, had focused solely on him for a handful of glorious moments, had knelt in the dirt with him and allowed Joshua to taste the calloused pad of his thumb... and so Joshua sears it all into his memory and moves on, as is expected of him.

He stands on his own, picking up his own sword, his gaze downcast as he considers this. In all regards, it had been exactly what he wanted, and the emptiness he feels now is just born from his base human greed. Someday he won't feel such a thing anymore - someday, no one will.]

As you say.

[Joshua falls into position easily a half step behind him, to accompany Barnabas from the training grounds, but he won't cling to him like a child. Unless otherwise directed, he'll put his blade away with the rest of the training supplies and politely take his leave once the two of them are inside.]

[When left to his own devices, Joshua moves through the castle with a quiet step, like a ghost in his own home. He spends most of his time in the library, reading. Most books penned by man are inherently flawed, but he's still taken the time to gather them throughout the years, to curl up and study the history of their land, battlefield tactics... shipbuilding, wheat processing, anything he can get his hands on.

When Joshua was younger and still capable of such things as optimistic dreams for his future, he'd fancied himself a novice cartographer and would pen maps from the books he'd read. Later, an artist, when he'd taught himself to draw with charcoal, kind faces from his memory. Later still, a musician, with a small lyre he'd found tucked away and covered in dust, until the strings snapped and he'd had no replacement.

Mostly now, he just settles in and studies. He has a myriad of notes from the things he's read: ancient lore, stories from the distant past, folktales. He imagines that Barnabas already knows all, that he's already scoured the books like Joshua does, made the same connections Joshua is making... but he still likes to imagine that he could someday be a service from the knowledge he accumulates: knowledge of legends, myths, secretly-penned customs of the way things were, things that hint at the existence of their god. He used to fantasize about uncovering a crucial piece of information that would guide Barnabas on his quest - not so much, anymore.

He isn't surprised to eat his supper alone, though he had hoped he might see Barnabas there. After their heated bout earlier that morning, Joshua feels a deep longing to see him again and revisit the way exertion had seared his blood hot, the taste of Barnabas' skin on his tongue. But the other man keeps his distance for reasons Joshua doesn't presume to know, and so afterward he waits for a respectable amount of time in his own rooms before stealing away.

When the grand door to Barnabas' bedchambers opens, he sees that the hearth is extinguished and cold - so his king isn't here, hasn't been here for most of the day. Joshua kneels to stoke it to a satisfying low flame and moves back to sit on the bed, waiting for Barnabas. He's dressed in little more than his dressing gown, but with the fire going, it proves warm enough. Joshua reads the small book he's brought with him, more for pleasure than anything else, with a mote of flame hovering over his shoulder serving as a reading lamp.

It's set aside quickly when he hears footsteps echo in the hallway outside and Joshua turns, the flame at his side still burning as Barnabas opens the door.]

Your highness.

[He says it softly, deferential, with a bow of his head. He would not assume Barnabas wants him now, but he does hope - but if asked to leave he would, respectfully and without a fuss.]

[He's pleased that Barnabas doesn't send him away immediately, pleased that he was correct in his assumption that he hadn't somehow stoked the king's ire earlier. He knows well enough to know by now that if Barnabas does not want him nearby, he will simply tell him in no uncertain terms to leave.

But he doesn't. Joshua watches as he enters the room and begins to disrobe, the small ball of flame extinguishing itself and casting his face into shadow. Slowly, he moves to stand, but his process is halted at the question and he turns his head to look toward Barnabas again, contemplative.

He has grown to understand - to assume, when he turns it back over in his mind - that the weakness of his constitution was the reason his mother had discarded him. Although Barnabas seeks power for a different reason, Joshua thinks that there is always a risk of failing to pass measure in his eyes as well. It leaves him guarded about his condition, and at times forces him into the uncomfortable position of admitting his own weakness and wondering if this would be what tips the scales - if this would cause Barnabas to abandon him as well.

But he doesn't lie. He would never lie to him.]

I'm alright.

[Joshua resumes his movement, crossing the room toward where Barnabas is disrobing, watching the way the muscles stretch underneath the skin of his back.]

Earlier... exhausted me, but with some rest, I feel capable again.

[He'd slept, bathed, read -and luckily not suffered any of his fits, nor had the exhaustion pushed him into sleeping for the entire day, as it sometimes does. For that, he counts his blessings, since he wants nothing more than to be here, with his king, and not trying to manage his own body's frustrating needs.]